


A Letter

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-26
Updated: 2006-08-26
Packaged: 2019-01-19 02:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12401463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: 'Still, she couldn’t help but trace over the letters just a bit, wondering what he might have been thinking at the time.' James writes a letter to Lily the summer before their seventh year. A birthday ficlet for Kelly.





	A Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

A Letter

(A/N): Belated birthday wishes to Kelly.

Disclaimer: JKR owns the characters, the books, and a whole lot more. I own the tiny spaces between.

\--

It was scrawled out hastily in ink at the bottom of the short letter- well, more like note, actually. The only thing that merited classification as a letter was the fact that it had been sent by an owl, traveling several miles over a day or so; a note would have been thrown at the back of her head in the middle of a boring lecture during Charms as a means of distraction. And then there was the less reasonable reason for her calling it a letter- simply that she liked the idea (though she’d never tell anyone, ever) of him sitting down at a desk to take the time to write a _letter_ to her.

_Dear Lily-_

_Hope your summer’s been fine. See you September 1st._

_Love from,_

_James_.

Alright, so it was only two sentences long. She resisted the urge to crumple up the small sheet of paper and stuff it in the pocket of her robes, reminding herself she’d already done that three times in the last five minutes, with the same result… she always ended up taking it back out, just to read over the last three words once (or maybe twice) again. _Love from, James_.

It wasn’t as if she was a silly school girl with a crush, giggling over love notes and drawing their initials in hearts all over her books, or anything like that. She shook her head at the ridiculousness of the thought, as the train gave a bit of a groan and a creak, trailing down the familiar track from King’s Cross Station. She had better things to do with her time than think about boys and shoes and candy hearts, she reminded herself, tapping absently on the compartment window. This was, after all, her seventh year. Her most important year. She’d been working towards this for six years, and now… here it was. She frowned slightly; it was a bit anticlimactic, really. But then, building something up for six years probably had that effect on most things.

Again, her eyes strayed back to the last two lines of the letter… note… letter-note? She bit down a laugh at herself. 

It was just such a familiar closing, for someone who had hardly ever held a civil exchange with her (lasting longer than four minutes, anyway), that was all. _Love from_ … James Potter didn’t sign off that way. Then again, James Potter didn’t write her letters. Maybe a note or so in the middle of class, when he was looking to annoy her, but he didn’t sign off on those- he knew she recognized his handwriting, after all, so why waste ink? 

So maybe it wasn’t a letter. Two sentences didn’t constitute a letter. He’d written her notes longer than that. Granted, the notes had usually been directed at how boring a lecture was, a plead for the answer to number seventeen, how crooked Snape’s nose was today in comparison to yesterday, that sort of thing. But the contents of this… sheet of writing, it was… normal. Which wasn’t at all normal, when James Potter was involved. He wouldn’t write to her for no reason other than to check in on how she was doing; he always had an agenda, an ulterior motive, if even so simple as just to annoy her.

It just seemed so _nice_. And unprompted. She hadn’t sent him a single letter, note, or owl dropping over the summer, hadn’t given him much thought after departing Platform Nine and Three Quarters back in June. Well- maybe she’d thought about him a little. But not much. Then, in July, he’d sent her a note. July twenty-second. _That_ was a note, she was sure.

_Bit hot lately, isn’t it? Shame you’re stuck in Muggleland. Thought I’d send you this. No need to thank me, I know I’m fantastic._

She’d just had time to register the familiar scrawl when she’d been hit by a cooling charm, lowering the temperature around her room enough for a few snowflakes to start sprinkling down on her bed. For the rest of July, she’d had to convince her mum that _no,_ she didn’t need new high-strength dandruff control shampoo. It was just the sort of gesture that might have been construed as either thoughtful or deliberately idiotic. She couldn’t quite fathom why he’d sent her a cooling charm, aside from the possibility that the heat wave had addled his brains just enough for him to think he was good at charms.

She’d only sent back a clipped reply.

_Idiot._ _Read your textbook and learn how to do a real charm._

_Yours,_

_Lily_.

He hadn’t replied, and she’d thought he’d been done annoying her for the summer. Until two weeks ago, in August, when this short note had arrived on her windowsill. She read it over again.

_Hope your summer’s been fine._ That, right there, that was uncharacteristic. He wouldn’t hope for that. He’d hope she’d spent the summer being lonely and unhappy, pining away with a broken heart over him, writing _‘James Potter and Lily Evans 4Ever’_ all over her notebooks and bag. He’d hope she’d suddenly realized what she’d been missing all her life was the feel of James Potter’s big strong arms around her. He’d hope she’d somehow come over with a magical illness that only _he_ could cure, leading her to his doorstep, where he’d take her in and have her beholden to him for the rest of their lives.

He wouldn’t hope her summer had been ‘fine’. And if he did, he wouldn’t use such a boring adjective as ‘fine’; he’d come up with some long, rambling sentence that required a team of linguists, mathematicians, and insane trolls to work out the meaning.

She shook her head.

_See you September 1st_.

That part had thrown her as well. Why did he even write it? Of course he’d see her then. He’d see her, he’d see Remus, Sirius, and Peter… it was stating the obvious. James didn’t state the obvious, at least not that… well, obviously. He just didn’t.

_Love from…_

And there she was again. _Why_ had he signed it with a closing so… familiar? She was perfectly aware of his misguided and inexplicable feelings for her, but that had never led to him writing anything as… idiotic, stupid, inane, unnecessary, unprompted, presumptuous, foolish, silly... ( _sweet_ , some small, ignored part of her mind added, before being severely chastised by the other, _sane_ part) as that. Still, she couldn’t help but trace over the letters just a bit, wondering what he might have been thinking at the time. 

The whole note was written in a hurried writing, as though he had somewhere to be. Why, then, she wondered, would he take the time to address her, and sign his name?

_James._ It had been signed _James_. Another thing that didn’t fit into the puzzle.

It all just didn’t quite add up.

But then… well. She let a tiny, treacherous part of her mind dig up a memory from three months ago.

He had kissed her once. Just before they’d left school, back in June. She’d just finished packing her things, her trunk full of books and clothes carried into the common room. She’d been the last one out of the dorms, a result of self-denial that the school year had ended, and simple procrastination. She had stepped out of the portrait hole, her magically shrunken steamer trunk in the pocket of her skirt, and had collided directly into something heavy and wooden. James Potter’s steamer trunk, levitating several inches off the stone floor, a homing beacon to all things hazardous and collision-prone. Namely, herself. He had apologized profusely, embarrassed and apologetic, while she had burst into laughter on the floor. 

James had explained that he always left last, so accidents like this had never occurred in the past five years, and she had been too amused to yell at him. Rather, after a few good humored jibes at his idiocy (nothing new, on that end), she had helped him cast a shrinking charm on his steamer trunk. They had walked down together, in a strangely companionable air for once, and as they reached the end of the stairwell and walked towards the large mahogany doors leading outward, she had wished him a good summer.

“Well,” she had said, rather awkwardly, “Goodbye.”

He’d smiled, and stuck out his hand, presumably for a handshake between two- what were they, exactly? Rivals? Friends? She had no idea.

She had taken the proffered hand, perhaps with the hope that they could start seventh year without the burden of animosity between them. When he hadn’t released her hand after several seconds, though, she’d looked up to tell him to let go. Before she could let the words out, she’d found herself suddenly jerked toward him, colliding into the wall of his chest. Not giving her the chance to protest, he’d turned his head slightly and closed the distance between them, giving her a soft, lingering kiss.

It was over before she’d even registered it. He had released her hand sharply and muttered a quick, “I’m sorry,” without looking her in the eye, before walking hurriedly through the doors to the train.

She’d only seen a glimpse of him, while passing his compartment, and once more when he’d been greeting his parents on the platform. As he seemed determined to pretend it hadn’t happened, she had resolved to put it in the past and not think about it beyond that. And she hadn’t, all summer. 

At all, she reminded herself sternly, and busied her hands with smoothing her hair.

She was interrupted from her task, though, by the sliding open of the compartment door.

“Alright, can we make this quick, because I’ve got-” The intruder stopped, and she looked up to meet James Potter’s eyes.

“Hi,” she murmured.

“It’s you,” he said. As if his words had just registered to him, he laughed at himself and amended, “I mean, you’re Head Girl. I should have guessed.”

She nodded. “Yes. And you’re…” she paused, her gaze caught on the small pin fixed to his sweater. He watched her reaction amusedly, as she looked up at him in surprise. “Seriously?”

James shrugged. “Yeah, me.” He smiled at her ruefully. “Disappointed?”

She caught herself and said quickly, “No, no. No. Well done, really. I just didn’t expect- I mean, that is to say, I thought they’d choose someone more… erm…” She swallowed, and he watched her grasp for words, an amused smile playing at his lips.

“Serious?” he offered.

“Well, yes,” she said, a bit embarrassed. “But I’m glad… that it’s you, I mean. It could have been far worse.”

James laughed. “Worse?” he shook his head, then paused. “Actually, would you excuse me, for a minute? I’ve got to see Remus and Sirius and…”

She nodded, rather bemused as he hurriedly turned and left the compartment, the door sliding shut with a thud behind him. 

Almost instantly, the door opened again as James stuck his head back in to add, “I’ll be right back.” The door shut again.

Well, that was odd.

She stared at an invisible fleck of dirt on her fingernails. It had never occurred to her that _he_ of all people might be named Head Boy. If anyone, she had expected Remus Lupin. Or maybe even Severus Snape. Still- she shrugged. It could have been worse, she reminded herself. 

She allowed herself a second to contemplate James Potter himself. He seemed different, somehow. Different from his usual cocky swagger and self-assuredness.

Lily wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

Before she could speculate further, the compartment door slid open and James stepped in, stooping through the doorway. It struck her how very tall he was. “Told you I’d be right back,” he said with a mild smile, and took a seat across from her. “So… how was your summer?”

Distracted, she smoothed the pleat of her skirt under her robes and shook her head. “Fine. It was fine. Yours?”

“The usual. Mayhem and destruction and whatnot,” he answered with a quirk of the lips.

There was a pause, and she realized he was waiting for her to ask him something else. It was her turn.

Oh, bugger.

“I meant to ask, what’re your plans for the year? As Head Boy, I mean?” 

“I’ve… no clue, actually,” he said, scratching his neck awkwardly. “I only just found out a week ago, and I wasn’t really expecting… well. I suppose we’ll have to work on that.” He smiled slightly. “Sorry. I promise I won’t be this useless for the whole of the year.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” She looked at her hands, then out the window. This was excruciating, really. She wished vehemently for a sudden Death Eater attack on the train.

“Did you… did you get my last letter?”

His voice broke through her (rather agitated) thoughts and she shook herself slightly. “What?”

He took his glasses off their perch on his nose and rubbed them clean with his sweater. “My letter… I sent you a…” he placed the glasses frames back on his face and met her eyes. “Maybe you didn’t… ah, never mind.” He averted his eyes and looked out the window as well.

An internal little voice gloated triumphantly that James had called it a letter. Without his gaze on her, she allowed herself to look at him, just for a moment. His one hand was tapping slightly at the windowsill, his other hand stuck in his pockets. The red and gold stripes of his Gryffindor tie were just barely visible, as he had clearly jammed it in the pocket of his robes.

He looked taller.

She lowered her eyes back to her hands, unsure of what to say, what to do. This was supposed to be their first meeting as Head Boy and Girl. They were supposed to go over plans and discuss… well, she wasn’t sure, but surely there was something to be discussed. She took out her wand and began to trace shapes idly onto the surface of the seat beside her.

He wasn’t looking out the window when she cast a glance at him next, but, rather, fixing his tie around his neck. They must be close to the school, she mused. His fingers worked the fabric of the tie with familiarity, the sort she supposed came with six years of practice. She averted her gaze before he could look up.

“I did get your last letter,” she blurted suddenly, unable to stand the silence.

James seemed a bit bewildered. “What?”

“You asked me if I received your letter,” Lily murmured, willing herself to keep talking. “I did.”

“Oh.” He smiled slightly and looked down. “Good.”

“Yes,” she murmured, and waited. He didn’t say anything, and she wondered if it would be rude to take out her books and study. As he remained silent, she turned to her bag and took out her Charms textbook. 

She was a few sentences into the text when he spoke again.

“You didn’t reply.”

She looked up, surprised.

He seemed embarrassed. “It’s just… well, you never replied. To my letter, I mean.” He paused, then added hastily, “You didn’t have to. I just thought you might, since… well, you replied to the first one. It’s fine that you didn’t, though.” He was no longer looking at her, but, rather, staring fixedly at the floor, though she thought she might have detected a pink tinge in his ears.

“Right,” she murmured to herself, “right.”

Lily turned back to her textbook and studied. Labeled diagrams, in-depth analysis of ancient charms… she shook her head and turned the next page. It was a blur, really. The last six years seemed to echo the sentiment.

A loud rumble shook her from her reverie. She looked up.

“Time to go,” James muttered, and stood.

“We forgot to meet the prefects,” she murmured as the realization hit her.

He glanced up at her. “So it would seem.” He paused at the compartment door. “Listen, what I said earlier… Don’t worry. I won’t bother you again.” James gave her a fleeting smile and walked out of the compartment.

She stared after him. In a quick burst of speed, she left the compartment and glanced out the window. He was standing amid a sea of huddled first years.

“James!”

James turned at the sound of his name. She stepped off the train and walked to him. “Did I… forget something in the compartment?” he frowned.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. 

“Write me another letter,” she said. “I’ll reply.”

\--

(A/N): Hmm, I may come back and edit this later, but there it is. My most profuse apologies to Kelly for the lateness.

Reviews make me happy. 


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